


Of Tainted Blood and Poisoned Arrows

by storms_saints



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crossover, Dalish Origin, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dragonborn | Dovahkiin in Thedas (Dragon Age), Eluvians, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Self-Indulgent as hell, mentions of oblivion and morrowind, the dragonborn's not nice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-22 13:12:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12482388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storms_saints/pseuds/storms_saints
Summary: When the Dragonborn ends up tainted and lost in Ferelden, he finds himself wrapped up in another heroic quest to save the world. Honestly, he's just in it for the booze.





	1. larkspur

**Author's Note:**

> wow this is self indulgent. tbh i wanted to write about the hero of kvatch and the inquisition but here were are. enjoy.

Apocrypha was, at a first glance, a horrid place. Dreary, convoluted, and unbearably uncomfortable. It was not a place many chose for their awaited afterlife. Cael certainly hadn’t. Although, he supposed that didn’t really quite matter yet, seeing as how he wasn’t actually dead. In Cael’s eyes, the one redeemable thing about Apocrypha was what could be found in the nightmare-like world. Knowledge, a vast endless supply of knowledge ranging from mundane subjects like cooking to ancient dragon shouts. 

He liked the cooking recipes (“A horker sauce? I’ve got to try that.”) but what really kept him in Apocrypha was the knowledge that could be turned into power. The dragonborn had always been greedy for power, therefore he wanted knowledge, so it wasn’t a surprise to Cael when he found himself reading his years away in the Daedric realm. He’d never been the studious type, but he could hardly put a good book down. 

The book that he was currently reading wasn’t an exception. It was a strange text, esoteric, even for Apocrypha’s standards, which was really saying something. (He had found novels upon novels on chaurus mating rituals, by Auriel, never again.) The tome spoke of another realm, a Thedas, supposedly a failed dream of the godhead. (What in the world was a godhead and why was it dreaming?) It detailed a long history, not unlike Tamriel’s own, filled with slavery and religious wars and magic and all sorts of things he could barely comprehend. 

It also spoke of a Fade, powerful elven mages, demons, and warriors with tainted blood. It was fascinating though far from useful, or at least that’s what he believed. Even if this other realm was real, Cael had no intention of seeking it out. He was intrigued but that’s where it ended.

It was the last page of the oversized tome that started it all. Before he realized what the page had inscribed, he flipped it, fingertips grazing a moment too long on what appeared to be an elaborate rune. An incredibly complicated-looking rune that Cael had never seen in all his time. He realized his mistake when the rune started glowing, blindingly bright and scorching hot to the touch. He tried to pull his fingertips away to no avail. The rune, a powerful force not even the dragonborn could resist, was pulling him into the book, not unlike the sensation one felt when using a Black Book. His vision swam with myriad of colors and there was a shock of raw magical energy that surged through his body. He felt like a living lightning rod and Cael could only exasperatedly curse. 

“For fuck’s sake…” were his last words in Oblivion as the rune burst and devoured him whole. 

-

When his vision stopped swimming, Cael saw that he was in an unknown realm of rocky cliffs and budding trees. Heavy fog hung in the air, further obscuring what scarce little Cael could see the distance. It reminded him of the arboreal Rift, but he knew he couldn’t be on Tamriel, maybe not even in Oblivion. It certainly didn’t look like Apocrypha with the distinct lack of murky ink and mountains upon mountains of books. Still, he tried calling for the Daedric Prince who had claimed his soul. 

“Hermaeus Mora? I don’t suppose you could tell me where am I or what this place is?” There was no answer, just silence that further unnerved Cael. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Why did things like this always happen to him? Hadn’t enough books swallowed him up already? 

He looked around the realm to see if there was anything of interest. A convenient portal back to his dwelling in Apocrypha would be preferred. A portal to Breezehome or the Sanctuary wouldn’t be too bad either. After two years, he did miss the place and people. There was no portal, sadly, but stood by what looked to be a large drop, was a glowing mirror. 

“Yeah. That’s not sketchy.” Cael muttered, though he still moved to approach it. He peered at it curiously and poked at it. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he felt his finger pass through what seemed like liquid glass. Was the mirror a portal? Cael wanted to find out. Although knowing his luck, the mirror would lead straight to the Shivering Isles or why not Coldharbour? 

Or the mirror would just kill him. Cael thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. He doubted it and besides, it wasn’t like he was particularly busy or had any other viable plan. He stepped in and saw the world blur around him once more. 

And then he proceeded to immediately regret it. 

Passing through the mirror made Cael want to throw up as a wave of nausea hit him full force. There was a spark of a magic that ran over his skin and then followed a more primal burning in his blood. It set his nerves alight, making him feel as though he was boiling from the inside out. 

He all but collapsed when his feet finally hit solid ground, the pain of the experience practically immobilizing him. He could barely hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed beyond the thundering sound of his heartbeat. He looked up and saw through distorted vision, a man dressed in ornate blue-silver armor, a sword held threateningly in one hand. 

“Who are you?” Cael heard the man ask. Cael didn’t bother to answer, his tongue still felt swollen in his mouth. Instead, he tried to stand up which immediately alarmed the other man, a soldier of some sort most likely. “I’m afraid I can’t allow any tainted demons from that mirror to leave here.” 

Tainted what? More importantly, was this man threatening him? 

Cael rose smoothly to his feet, into a battle position that betrayed how awful he actually felt. His vision still swam with each blink and every move he made sent an excruciating amount of pain up his spine. He felt feverish, weak with pain, but it would be a scorching hot day in Winterhold before he’d let some random man confine or kill him. If he had to carve his way just to get to a healer and find out what happened, then so be it. 

Although perhaps he should leave this soldier alive, so he could tell Cael exactly where he had ended up. If he could even manage to incapacitate the man without killing him, of course. The man looked like he wanted to say something more, but Cael gave him no chance. With how much pain he was in, this fight had to be finished quickly. 

His arrow was nocked, drawn, and released in just mere seconds. His grit his teeth as the man dodged skillfully and a new wave of agony washed over him. He fought through it anyway, even as the world around him tilted on its axis. 

A poisoned dagger cut through the air, but only clattered uselessly against the wall. (He ignored the sting of wounded pride. He actually missed!) The man steadily advanced, bringing his shield up to intercept a hail of his poison tipped arrows. Cael used the man’s momentary block in vision to his advantage. Another arrow was drawn and loosed, this one aimed at his unshielded legs, but the man was a better fighter than Cael preferred. 

He sidestepped, the arrow merely grazing the top of his calf. Cael’s vision darkened, but he smirked wickedly all the same. He made sure the smirk was visible when the soldier’s sword clashed against his dragonbone bow. 

The bow held strong against the weight of the sword. In an instant, he slipped out the Blade of Woe and slashed at the man’s stomach with his free hand. It met only the steel of his shield. The shield swung into his right side, crashing into his face, and sending Cael to the ground. There was the distant clatter of his bow and the taste of iron. Blood dripped in rivulets from what felt like an already broken nose. 

His opponent towered above him, sword held high, perhaps assuming he had won their short fight. 

He was very wrong. Cael savored the brief look of confusion on the man’s face as he did the strangest, damndest thing. 

Cael laughed. 

“The poison should kill you in just under a day. Don’t worry. It’s painless, I promise.” He taunted. 

“What-” Cael wasn’t interested in what the man had to say. 

Cael’s voice rumbled in his chest, unnatural and more guttural than any language on Nirn. It shook the very foundation below them and the ceiling above. It shook the man’s very bones. 

“FUS. ROH. DAH.” 

Unrelenting force sent the man flying into the wall farthest from him. The crash of metal and the crunch of more than a few broken bones reverberated throughout the room. Cael took sick pleasure in the sound. 

Cael kept his eyes open long enough to enjoy the look of visible pain and shock on the man’s face. He had nothing personal against the man, not really, he was simply a sadistic bastard. And being in pain himself, made him want to put others in pain even more. 

He then closed his eyes, knowing the fight was over, and missed the look of dawning horror on his opponent’s face. 

“I believe the paralyzation should be kicking in about now.” Cael nonchalantly added, swollen tongue hindering his every word. His grasp on his consciousness was fading fast. “Remember when I said the poison was painless?” Cael allowed himself one final laugh before he succumbed to his own pain. “I lied.” 

The world went black.


	2. corn lily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aghh i don't like this chapter. will probably come back and edit it.

Cael smelled the room before he saw it. The scent of pine trees, days old mud, and freshly wet grass wafted through the air, accompanied by what he could only identify as some sort of ungodly alchemical concoction. He sniffed a bit more and realized with bemusement that the pungent smell was originating from him. 

When his heavy eyelids slipped open, he was met with the sight of a large tent. He was laying down in an uncomfortably short cot surrounded by various salves and potions in all shapes and sizes. He surveyed the tent, finding it thankfully empty, and guessed that it was herbalist’s tent. There were a few more cots across and beside his own. One of the cots even holding what appeared to be corpse, judging by the tarp over the body and the lack of breathing. It could’ve been a vampire, but Cael somehow doubted that. 

Someone had retrieved him from whatever ruin or cave he had passed out in. He glanced down at his bare torso to see that it was covered in a thick layer of a pungent healing salve. Whoever this person was had also taken the time to ease his pain. The strange, feverish feeling was still present, but Cael was glad to note that his muscles did not cry in agony each time he moved. 

Cael then thought of the man he had fought. Where was he? He couldn’t have been the corpse in the other cot; the corpse was far too short and thin to be the soldier. Had his rescuer not rescued the other man? 

He didn’t really care. What he did care about was that he was now technically in debt to whoever this rescuer was. He loathed being indebted to anyone. Could this strange trip get any worse? 

He swung his legs off the cot and was pulling on his nearby shirt when the faintest of murmuring reached his ears. Voices, multiple voices, talking in grave tones about something Cael couldn’t quite make out. They were quickly approaching the tent, so he didn’t bother to pretend he was still sleeping. He sat on the cot, calmly awaiting their arrival. 

The tent flap soon parted, specks of sunlight filtering in through the gap, and in walked an elegant old lady adorned in a feathery set of ceremonial robes. His eyebrow quirked in curiosity at the sight of the woman’s skyward and undeniably elven ears, yet aside from her ears, she looked entirely human. Was this woman a half elf like him? Breton and bosmer perhaps, judging by her short height, but it was strange, elves never looked this human-like. 

He thought no more of it when the tent flap parted once more and entered the very same man Cael had been fighting, the very same man he had poisoned. Cael didn’t let the surprise show on his face. Instead, he laughed. 

“I didn’t think we’d reunite,” Cael teased though his eyes were narrowed. Unless he had found an antidote, the man should’ve been paralyzed, completely paralyzed. Cael then glanced at his empty potion belt. Oh. He resisted the urge to scoff. They’d found the antidote and judging by the man’s lack of discomfort, the antidote had been administered early.

“I, truthfully, was hoping we would.” The soldier said in a disarmingly pleasant tone. He didn’t seem hostile. In fact, he looked utterly at ease, as if they hadn’t just tried to murder each other just hours or days before. How long had Cael been out? Cael didn’t ask and simply went with the flow. 

“Strange. With a first date like that, not many would be interested in a second.” Cael replied sardonically with a small twitch to his brow. He turned to the elderly woman who had been watching their interaction closely. “Is it you, ma’am, whom I should be thanking for our little rescue?” 

The woman’s voice soft voice and pleasant accent immediately reminded him of the Bosmeri accent. So, she was a bosmer? “Please, child, ma’am is not necessary. I am Keeper Marethari of the Sabrae Clan and I was not the one who found you. It was our hunters who happened upon you and brought you to me. I merely healed yours and Duncan here’s wounds as best as my abilities could.” 

“Then, I owe you a thank you anyway.” Cael bowed his head in a nod of gratitude. “Thank you, Keeper Marethari. Allow me to reimburse you for the supplies you must’ve lost.” The least he could do was pay the woman who had lessened that godawful pain. He didn’t want to part with any money, but social protocol demanded that he at least offer reimbursement. 

“Thank you for the offer, but there’s no need for that.” Thank Auriel. “There is something else though…” Clearly, he had spoke too soon.   
The man, Duncan, stepped up at this curiously enough. Now that Cael could see clearly, he could see Duncan’s facial features and identify him as an Imperial. 

“Before that, I must ask, how long was I out and where are we currently?” He suspected he was in Valenwood with a Bosmer hunting clan, though the use of wood in the tent was rather unheard of for the Bosmer. 

“You were out a for a day, quite a quick recovery. As for where we are, we are currently in my clan’s camp in the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest,” Marethari said. 

Cael blinked. The loss of time was annoying but the mention of this forest threw him in for a loop. He knew most major forests in Valenwood (geography lessons from his childhood had been boring yet useful) and had never heard of the Brecilian. Perhaps, it was a local name or just a minor forest. Was he even in Valenwood? 

“Are we in Valenwood?” He asked. He didn’t expect the look of utter confusion on their faces. 

“...Valenwood?” Keeper Marethari asked slowly, as if she had never heard of the place in all her life. What kind of Bosmer, or anyone really, didn’t know Valenwood? “I’m sorry to say, I’ve never heard of the place.”

“...” Cael stared at them silently, trying to gauge whether they were simply messing with him. “You’ve . . . never heard of Valenwood. Okay then.” He stated flatly. He spoke slowly on purpose in a manner that conveyed his mockery more than words could. “What country are we currently in then?” Now, the two of them, Marethari and Duncan looked at him as if he were the crazy one. 

“Ferelden, child.” Marethari shot him a concerned glance before turning to Duncan. “Is the taint causing this?” 

The what? And the word “Ferelden” itself sounded vaguely familiar, but he had never heard of such a country. 

“I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I suppose it’s possible,” Duncan answered solemnly. 

Cael didn’t quite appreciate them talking about him like he wasn’t there, nor did he like not knowing what this taint was. Nothing with the name “taint” could possibly be pleasant. 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” He shrugged. “And prior to today, I’d never even heard of Ferel-” Cael abruptly stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened in a rare display of genuine shock, as he finally had a moment of recognition. He did know the country of Ferelden, though not because he’d actually been there, but because he’d read about it in that damn book that brought him here in the first place. 

“By Auriel…” he murmured under his breath. This Thedas was real; this whole other realm. The woman he had naively believed to be a Bosmer-Breton mix was an indeed an elf, but certainly not a Tamrielic elf. He tried to recall if the Taint had been mentioned in the book, but all he could recollect was a devastating plague of sorts that poisoned the ground itself. It sounded like something Peryite would’ve loved. 

“Are you alright, child?” Came the concerned voice of Marethari. Cael was shaken from his thoughts. 

“Quite fine, surprisingly, considering the situation. Most people would be panicking by now, I believe.” 

“The situation? What do you mean?” Duncan inquired curiously, looking like he knew something. Cael didn’t question that look in his eyes; as he was about to drop a metaphorical fire ball on them. 

“Oh you know, being in a completely different continent or world or universe, I’m not really sure yet.” He said in a blase manner. To his disappointment, they didn’t show as much shock as he would’ve liked. 

Marethari blinked. “You’re from another land?” 

“This is Thedas, isn’t it? I am from Tamriel, another continent. It seems that mirror I interacted with was a portal of sorts and it brought me here.” Either that or it was all an extraordinarily detailed fever dream.

“The mirror… of course, you did step out of it.” Duncan mused aloud. Marethari looked between the two, a distinct furrow between her brows. 

“And after I stepped out, you proceeded to threaten to attack me.” Cael smiled crookedly. “Care to explain why? Surely, I didn’t scare you that much.” 

Duncan shook his head ‘no’ unruffled by Cael’s goading. 

“You did surprise me. I initially thought you were a demon or a ghoul.” 

Cael tilted his head as he tried to remember what demons in Thedas were. Ghouls, he had absolutely no clue. And he was drawing a blank with demons too. Whatever they were, they were from that Fade place and weren’t exactly well-loved. 

“Was I really that unattractive? A pity.” As usual, his teasing had no effect on the soldier. 

“I apologize for assuming you were one of those things. Had you not attacked me so suddenly, I would’ve realized the truth of the matter.” 

Cael cocked an eyebrow, smirk firmly in place. “I see, so it’s my fault then. I’m sorry. Sorry about the poison too. Must’ve hurt, hm?” 

Marethari interrupted their little back and forth with her gentle, but firm voice. “So this mirror, presumably an elven artifact from the days of Arlathan, is a portal device. And it’s capable of bringing over people from other continents or possibly… other worlds, as you said.” 

“I believe that’s the gist of it. I’m guessing jumping back into it would bring me home. Where is it by the way?” Cael absolutely did not like the way their faces darkened at his question and had a sneaking suspicion he knew their answer. 

“It was shattered.” Cael . . . wasn’t really surprised, so he just sighed. He didn’t bother to ask why. Things like this just happened far too often to him. 

“So I suppose I’m stuck here for a while . . .” he mused. It didn’t seem that bad of a prospect really. It was a whole new world which meant it was a whole new challenge. Cael did like challenges, the dragon soul of his made sure of that. 

“You are surprisingly calm about it.” Duncan noted. Cael shrugged uncaringly. 

“I wasn’t doing much back home anyway. Merely passing time. And I don’t mind exploring a new world for a while before trying to find another one of those mirrors.” 

“I see.” Duncan and Marethari shared a look, a grave one. Cael leaned in a bit, curious. “Tell me, does your homeland have a thing called the taint?” 

Here again with this taint. What exactly about it was so important? Was there a taint going on in this country or something? If so, he’d just hop onto the next ship for another country, preferably a rich one with lots of thing to steal and plunder. 

“By taint, if you mean disease and famine, then yes. Why?” 

“The taint… is something more than your average disease. It is a corruption, an evil, spread by foul creatures known as the Darkspawn. It poisons all in its path, men, plants, all living things. It is a plague, a slow death, that ends with the victim losing their mind and eventually hearing the call of the Old Gods.” 

Wow. That sounded wonderful. 

“The Old Gods?” He asked instead. 

“Tainted dragons who were once worshipped as gods.” Cael heard the word “dragon” and nearly groaned. He had enough of dragons for a hundred or so lifetimes. But then a thought occurred to him. 

“And you’re telling me this because…?” He had a bad feeling about this. 

“I’m sorry, you… are infected with the taint.” 

Cael resisted the violent urge to bash his head against the closest wall. He put on a carefully blank face. 

“How? I’ve never encountered these darkspawn.” At least, he didn’t believe he ever had. 

“The mirror was tainted. When you traveled through it, I’m afraid you were corrupted by it.” And that’s why he had been in so much pain and why the mirror had been shattered. 

Cael took a deep breathe and asked a question. He knew he wouldn’t like the answer, but no matter what, there was always Peryite or Namira he could deal with. “Is there a cure?” 

Duncan’s eyes hardened and Cael found that odd. His answer was just as ominous. 

“There is one, but…” 

“Let me guess. It comes with a price?” 

The expression on Duncan’s face was enough of an answer for Cael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading OTL let me know if i made any mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i'm not really certain if i'll continue this so we'll see. i do have so much fun writing cael though. what a dick.


End file.
